As I drove, my phone buzzed in the center console. I glanced at the screen. It was a calendar reminder: Meeting with community investment board at 3:00 PM. I was planning to fund a scholarship for first-generation college students—a use of the money that Marjorie would have absolutely hated.
I smiled, reaching over to turn the radio up. A bright, upbeat song filled the car.
The true jackpot wasn’t the millions of dollars sitting in my trust account. The money was wonderful, it was freeing, but it was just a tool.
The real jackpot was finally realizing that my worth, my peace, and my future were never something they could burn.
